Astralis: 1- Eltanin
The first part of my story for the Sornieth Zodiac Event!
Even in the early morning, the Clan Tempestas Clamanti was a flurry of activity.
Loched
When the Gaolers first broached the surface and left their icy prisons, it brought a wave of excitement and intrigue. What change would they bring with them? What tales of ancient times— passed down among their generations and uncorrupted due to self-imposed isolation— would they tell? How long would it be until another one of the deities' eldest children began to stir?
But the buzz was soon quelled.
Tempestas Clamanti
The rolled parchment in Persephus’ claws rustled as he picked his way down the corridors of the Lair. If all went according to plan, this would be his first officially recorded edict since he decided to become the Clan’s recordkeeper (Or, as he preferred the title to be, historian). But with his young age and the ideas penned down being his own, he was worried that the proposal would be only half-considered and then tossed.
(Mis)Fortune
so i had started this a year ago and pretty thoroughly lost my groove for it by the end. take that as you will yeehaw
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It seemed to have been one of those exceedingly rare days in her life, where what she thought was impossible wandered up before her and the best thing to do would be to stand back and enjoy it. And that was exactly what Ciphers was planning to do.
just posting my tab snippets over here (>o-o)>
Tempesta
As the Clan has grown to a hub of commerce and travel, all permanent residents have taken an additional title of "tempesta." This name serves as a marker of authority among the throngs of dragons who may find themselves among the halls.
Supercell
The title of "supercell" has been humorously given to many visitors of the Clan. Just like the namesake, whether they are simply passing through or have come to receive training, these dragons never seem to stay long.
The Grotto
Long term visitors tend to find themselves in the Grotto, a luxurious lodging by the Clan's subterranean lake. But no matter how long a dragon resides here, they never seem to hunger...
i finally finished the first iteration of my clan info overview-thing!
Tucked within a recess of the great mesa of the Tempest Spire, the Clan of the Screaming Storm has made a home. But in a land of scorched desert sands, and lightning and thunder ripping apart the skies overhead, lush plant life— carefully irrigated, and tended by Nature Flight magic— grows, feeding dragons and beastclans alike for miles around. Through this verdant oasis in the heart of the Shifting Expanse winds a rough stone paved path to the mouth of an ancient one-abandoned mining system. Beyond this simple claw-hewn hole lies the Lair of these wily dragons. And it is at the deep core of this twisting labyrinth that the key secret of the Clan's prosperity becomes known. Past private chambers and coiling offshoots, the system opens into a cavern filled with the purest water one could imagine. This magnificent lake is what supports the rich life in the parched land above. But it was only relatively recently that the lake was discovered, when the first dragons of the Clan entered and began to expand and refine the old mine into a home. How could such a precious commodity go undetected for so long? Perhaps... something deterred others from the desert haven. For when the lights dim and all eyes are away, wisps of smoke and tiny flecks of light rise from the placid, crystal blue water. But what they don't know won't hurt them, right?
Rime Fever
Strange things happen in the Clan of the Screaming Storm whenever the Crystalline Gala rolls around. It seems almost as though the dragons of the Clan return to their basest forms, acting on impulse; whether it be envy, or rage, or lust. All too often do they make choices that reverberate their effects for years. Thankfully, there has yet to be anything that could have dire consequences for the Clan.
Regrets, however, are abound.
Amusingly dubbed “Rime Fever,” nobody is quite sure of the origin for this phenomenon nor the “requirements” to be affected by it. Any dragon passing though the Clan during the Gala seems unaffected. But as soon as someone becomes a permanent member of the ranks, the next rolling of the Ice season spells their catch of the Fever.
Perhaps it is caused by a waning influence of the Stormcatcher-- the Thundercrack Carnivale (AKA the pinnacle of Lightning’s power) is at the polar opposite point of Sornieth’s year. And so the lessening of the elemental magic causes the dragons of the Clan to somehow become more primal. Perhaps it is just a simple dip in morale caused some sort of Flight apoapsis, the distant loom of the Lightning Flight’s peak making them stir-crazy.
But without any means of obtaining confirmation or denial from their deity, nor any knowledge of any other clan that experiences anything similar, the Clan will never know.
aka I tend to get major lore-changing ideas around the Crystalline Gala and I though it was kinda interesting that it’s the opposing point of the year from the time for the Thundercrack Carnivale
Creeping
“Has there been any news of it?”
Still Waters
Surge dipped one claw into the pool that lapped in the corner of his room. Beyond the fluttering of his school of fish, the cool water was much too still. It was fed straight from the Sea of a Thousand Currents, but did not churn and roil with the bubbling lifeblood of the pelagic Territory.
Though, frankly, nothing really was these days.
Broken Bonds
Rosetta worried on the petals of a tulip, the velvety soft plant smooth between her claws. It had been months since she had last heard from any of her friends and family in the Verdant Labyrinth-- at least, those who continued to associate with her after her announcement of mating to a Plague dragon-- and the dragoness was practically chomping at the bit.
glitchtypepokemon: Persephus' first encounter with his Animated Statue familiar?
I actually have a story for that already! You can find it right (here).
But for a little update on what Kaliga and the rest of the Figures are doing, they’re probably still being creepy and filling Pers’ impressionable little head with more Beastclan propaganda.
That’s gonna go well, as you could imagine.
stuff with them is heavily dependent on the ‘canon’ FR lore so i can’t really write often about them
cassowarhea: how would your dragons react to the plants in their evironment suddenly screaming
Rosetta ruffled through the leaves of a Broadleaf Plantain, looking for dead parts to prune or insect damage to treat. She smiled softly to herself, this specimen looked to be the picture of health. Nothing less was ever known to come from from plants under the care of the Nature Imperial. She gave a final genial pat to the bush and went to move to the next.
Then the screaming began.
All at once, every plant in the expansive garden seemed to issue a bloodcurdling caterwaul. Rosetta froze, mid-step and eyes blown wide, as the cacophony began echoing off the walls of the mesa. In the moments it took for the dragoness to get her heart back back in her chest, her bewildered Clanmates began to pour out of the Lair.
“What happened?” Eulalia shouted over the din.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Rosetta yelped back. “It’s like the poor things all started up at once!”
The Imperial dashed between the rows of the garden, stroking lilies and cooing to ivy. The rest of the Clan stood where they were, trying their best to cover their ears and having no clue as for what to do (And wondering how plants were able to scream). But everyone’s efforts seemed fruitless. The plants continued to howl.
Rosetta dropped to the ground, head clutched in their claws. “I-- I don’t know what to do,” she cried, completely at a loss. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her snout, sinking onto the sandy earth.
It went silent.
Anonymous asked:
Snow? In Lightning territory? (It's more likely than you think.)
Stratos stared up at the sky, a dubious look on his face.
Thick gray clouds rolled overhead and from them fell large, fluffy flakes of snow. Not that the Fae had never seen snow before, he’s traveled to near every corner of Sornieth while bringing down every type of beast known to dragonkind. And there was the Clan’s resident Ice dragon with her perpetual self-localized snow storm. The problem was that this was Lightning Territory.
You know, the heat stroked, thunder churned desert.
As far as Stratos knew, it did not snow there.
He snorted as a snowflake lazily lighted on his snout. What in the Wyrmwound is going on now? he hissed to himself. Things had been strange in the world for the past months, perhaps this was related to it all. The Fae wracked his brain for anything that could result in the odd weather pattern.
Maybe the Crescendo? Every possibility of changes that the new twist of the storm could bring might not have been considered. This could be a new effect. Or it could have been something entirely different at fault. Maybe it was just a thing where it snowed in the Shifting Expanse once a millennia. It’s not like he’s ever decided to read through all recorded history of Lightning’s weather.
Stratos’ pondering of the origin of the foreign precipitation was disrupted by the snow fall getting heavier. He frowned and turned to pad back into the Lair. I guess I gotta tell someone before the plants freeze over.
Heavy Heart
… The truth…
Darkened figures tore through the landscape, sand and soil kicking up in their wake. Their screeches and howls pierced the still air. They seemed to be running… but from what? The sun rose, illuminating the land. Ah, that’s it. The shredded ruins of the Hewn City peaked from the horizon, and from the Light lands pulsed a strange energy.
… I see it, the energy whispered. How it wounds me. I must rectify them… My first children...
My Imperials.
The figures clawed at the earth, desperate to flee the energy. Cries sounded over the deep ethereal thumping, blending and blurring into words.
A mistake.
The figures tore at the ground.
Mistake.
The figures tore at the air.
Mistake.
The figures tore at each other.
Mistake.
The figures tore at themselves.
Mistake.
MISTAKES.
The Imperial jolted from her dream, heart pounding against her chest. She tried to heave air back into her lungs, but ragged cries ripped from her throat. A sense of foreboding pierced her gut.
The dragoness knew what this was about-- the Emperor that ravaged the Hewn City. The Lightweaver had taken Her notice.
Imperials were dragons no longer.
They were mistakes to be fixed.
Shock Run
Thump.
Ciphers blinked away the sleep in her eyes and squinted at the bright lights glaring in her room. Through the haze of her lashes, the Imperial could just barely make out the tail end of Alexia stalking back up the corridor of the Lair. She frowned, confused over what just happened.
What was that for…? She wondered to herself as she picked herself up out of her nest of pelts. Ciphers arched her back in a stretch, wings flared out. Taking a step forward, one paw crunched something and she jumped back.
“A scroll?” She unfurled the flattened parchment. Her heart dropped at the Lightning insignia at the top of the scroll, good things never seemed to come from that. Still, she scanned the writing scrawled across the page. Ciphers let out a low groan.
She was being work-drafted.
Shifts
Persephus reluctantly wandered into the Vault. At the moment, the young Wildclaw would have much rathered to be outside, but strange things have been happening. First and foremost, it was becoming almost unbearably stormy. Lightning struck fast and often, and the older dragons deemed it too dangerous for him to be spending any extended amount of time in the open air. He was a young boy! He had energy to burn!
It also didn’t help when news came from other Flights about odd events (Not including the Gaolers… But he was just keeping that between himself, Hylla, and the figures). Like in Arcane, where the Lightning magic lines apparently shortwired their observation tools. Or when his father rushed off early one morning to tend to something in Fire-- he still hadn’t returned, now that Persephus thought about it. But things really started getting weird when Eulalia and Stratos trotted back from the Wind lands telling how the Twisting Crescendo had died for a month, but came back spinning the other way!
He now stood in front of the statue of Kaliga, the dark Raptorik looming imposing as ever. Persephus frowned up at the figure. An excited energy buzzed through the air, and quick, incomprehensible chatter fluttered back and forth.
“Wh-what is going on?” Persephus asked, more to himself than to anyone-- or anything, to be particular.
Heed me, Boy, the deep voice of Kaliga answered anyways. The great Raptorik’s voice almost seemed jovial. Things are stirring deep beneath the Earth. They seem to be taking revenge. Perhaps… perhaps I was wrong, in the best way.
The dragon didn’t quite comprehend. “So this is a-a-a good thing?”
Yes, Young One, it is.
For us.
Penumbra
All too unwillingly, Pandora slowly cracked open her eyes. She yawned as she took in the land around her--
Wait a minute.